Whoopee, this thingy. Here ya go
While Vale was under the control of the council and Vacuo split up under various warlords who controlled large swaths of area, the area between the two was in a more fluid state. That was to say, nobody truly ruled the mountains between Vale and Vacuo. Some tried, but nobody could ever truly conquer those lands.
They were rich in dust, Grimm, and mountains. It was scenic and deadly, a place that would make a great screen saver if it weren't for the fact that it had a very high death count.
Despite that fact, there was still a thriving system of prospectors in the Mid-Sanusian Mountain Range, or the Midlands. The SDC operated a bit differently. It technically only owned a single town inside of the Midlands, but really it was the only buyer for prospectors to sell to. It sent heavily armored trucks full of supplies to that company town, which sold the supplies itself to both its residents and other towns. With that sort of monopoly and the lack of CCT, the SDC were free to set low prices. Hell, most of the time dust was traded for food or medicine. Though even with the low pay, in the Midlands it was still pretty good.
It was profitable, because miners would frequently find dust crystals as big as grapefruits in the dirt with purities so high that further refinement was pointless. To the SDC, which provided dust from kingdoms like Vale and Atlas, which chewed up dust so fast that it was frankly unsustainable, such a thing was a worthwhile investment.
Anyways, it was only a few weeks since Jaune had begun his training with Raiden. He had his aura and wasn't liable to cut off a pinky with Crocea Mors, but Jaune was very much still green. Raiden had decided, against Jaune's protests, to travel into the Sanusian mountains, deciding it'd make for a fun field trip.
Jaune was half sure Raiden wanted him to die.
"Oh suck it up, brat. Just 'cause you decided to travel with me doesn't mean I have to stop going to places because it's dangerous." He said that last bit in a mocking tone. Raiden was looking as old as ever, wearing his rags, barely bothering to brush his wild gray hair, and wielding a mecha-shift katana that he refused to shift because of how troublesome it got when it jammed. "Plus, this will be a good learning experience." He lied as easily as he breathed.
"Great, just great." Jaune muttered to himself.
"Plus, maybe we'll find a better gun for you than that crappy old piece of junk!" Raiden chuckled, his raspy voice making the mirth sound more like painful wheezes.
"No." Jaune clung onto his flare gun. "I like this! Plus, flares have utility." Just in case he needed to call for help.
"Yeah, yeah. See how you like that utility when a Deathstalker slams you in the face." Raiden grumbled, hand instinctively going to his heavily scarred side. "Anyways, we're here." Indeed they were. The two of them had been traversing through a mountain, the metaphorical gate to the Midlands. They'd encountered plenty of Grimm and Jaune even managed to kill one! His joy was dashed when Raiden informed him it was a juvenile Grimm, but was proud of himself since it normally took quite a bit longer for trainees to do the same.
They'd just crossed the gate and could now get a good view for their first destination: A small frontier town by the name of Auga Fria. Even from afar, Jaune could tell it was a ramshackle place. Wooden houses that looked flimsy and makeshift at best, a pump that took from a nearby river, and even an honest to god gallows.
"Hey, what's with that?" Jaune pointed to the hangman's tool of choice. The entire place looked like something out of a period drama, though Jaune could see many touches of modernity in the vehicles.
"In the Midlands, nobody cares who you are. None of the places here have CCT towers, so nobody really knows if anyone's a wanted crook. Many come here to lay low and Vale's happy to leave them because why not? This place is basically a backwater deathtrap as it is. It's as good of an execution as any. But there are still troublemakers. Local bandits that are notorious and hunted. If anyone makes trouble here, you can bet they'll hang."
"Jeez." Jaune paled as he realized there was a body hanging already, bloated and rotting.
"Hey, don't look so down. As long as you don't do something stupid, you'll be fine." Raiden shrugged, giving Jaune a not very reassuring grin. "Anyways, we'll be here for a while."
"W-we are?" Jaune looked at Raiden with a very unsure expression.
"Yeah, of course we are. I mean, this is my kind of place. Nice, quiet, low, and also somewhere I can make a pretty Lien." Raiden had a greedy look in his eyes, though tempered by wisdom and knowledge of how fleeting wealth truly was. "Seriously though, your addition to our merry band of idiots-" They were two people, calling them a merry band was a bit of an exaggeration. "-has strained my wallet a bit. So we kind of need to make some cash. Capiche?"
"Got it." Jaune rolled his eyes, but resolved himself to at least weather through the discomfort. After all, Raiden was right, he was kind of a burden at the moment. Hell, Raiden really didn't have any reason to train Jaune at all. There was no return on investment in the slightest. So Jaune had limited room to complain, he was getting a bargain.
"Plus I may have blown a bit of our savings on a game of poker." Jaune reassessed that statement as he sighed in disappointment. "Quiet! If I had one more game-!"
"You would've lost just as bad." In the future, Jaune would make sure that Raiden never ever ever ever met Darling. "Probably would've put us in debt." Because Raiden's debts were as good as Jaune's debts.
"Yeah, yeah. Let's hope we strike gold." There was a momentary pause. "Ok, let's hope we strike dust. Frickin' Midas." He grumbled under his breath before sighing. "Let's just get on with this, alright? My bones are aching for a good rest, preferably not in the mountains."
"Then why even come here?"
"Because they weren't aching until we came to the mountains." Raiden let no more be said as they continued walking down. Jaune rolled his eyes but went along with it. After all, Jaune himself wasn't exactly feeling great after several hours straight of treading a path with no trail because Raiden insisted it was shorter that way.
Raiden wasn't a very good teacher. He often spoke in riddles, was ridiculously tough to the point of trying to make Jaune give up, and didn't even bother to act as a role model.
The thing was that he was the only one apathetic enough to take Jaune on. Every other hunter he knew in Ansel at first knew of his father's wishes and abided by them. By the time he was 15, they said it was too late, and he should just start looking for a mundane career path. Now that he was 18, he was sure that even fewer would be willing to take him on. But Raiden?
Raiden couldn't give a shit. Hell, Jaune was pretty sure Raiden was taking advantage of him being out of options to make him an errand boy. But he did unlock Jaune's aura. He did teach Jaune how to use Crocea Mors. He hadn't forced Jaune to do anything too bad either. Just getting groceries and cooking meals.
The two of them made their way to Auga Fria in good time, which was about an hour of middling pacing. One thing he learned about being on the road was that running did nothing but exhaust. It was better to walk. For one, it made getting ambushed harder. It also just costs less energy. It also made dropping stuff harder to do. Unless one was in a hurry for one reason or another, walking would be perfectly serviceable.
"Welcome, to Auga Fria." Raiden made some attempt at grandeur, holding out his arms as they approached the town by the dirt road. Up close, Jaune could say that it wasn't any better with detail. He could see much more grime, makeshift repairs, and other such things that made it look more run down than rustic. "Look, Jaune, it's not the best, nobody is saying it is, but for one, nobody here can really afford to build better here. For another, suck it up." Raiden reminded Jaune again to lower his standards.
"Sure." Jaune sighed, but he'd lived with much worse. Over the past few weeks, he'd slept in some very uncomfortable places. "What are we doing here anyways? Please don't tell me we're panning for dust."
"Well, not all the time."
"Brothers, why?" Jaune facepalmed.
"Because you ain't paid here for doing nothing. Catch Grimm or criminals for Lien, but patrolling ain't exactly a good job. So to make ends meet while we wait, we might as well go searching." In the Midlands, extremely pure dust was far more common than most other places. The thing was that they were in spread out chunks, for which there was no reliable method of searching.
Well, no reliable method of searching that made it through the Grimm.
Anyways, people just did it the old fashioned way. And with how potent the crystals were, it was efficient enough of a method.
"Sure, fine." Jaune shrugged. "Please tell me we have a bit of Lien left."
"Nope." Raiden admitted freely. "Again, gambled it all away." Jaune groaned again. "Hey, don't look so glum. I still have like, a few bullets. That should get us a sandwich, maybe. And water's free!" He pointed towards the running river, a small comfort to the already hungry squire. "Look, a thing you gotta learn in the Midlands is that there are three currencies. Lien, bullets, and dust."
"Really? Have you been here before?" It sounded plausible, though.
"Yep." Raiden dug around his pockets and pulled out a speed loader with six old bullets, the caliber of his revolver-katana that he never used. Apparently the mecha-shift weapon was a present that he initially liked, but eventually found out how annoying bothering to take care of the insides was and just didn't bother. "Explosive shots as well. This should at least get something to tide us over until our next payday."
"Why did I have to be found by you?" Jaune muttered under his breath as they walked over to a saloon. When Jaune thought of old cowboy movies, he always thought of the saloon. The meeting spot of towns and the centerpiece, where money traded hands in a million different ways. Through gambling, through buying food and drinks, and even buying company for the night. It was a lively place, with necessity forcing it to be sizable but limitations making it somewhat cramped.
Safe to say, his expectations weren't denied. The saloon was definitely cramped, though there were less cowboy hats than he thought there would've been, and a lot more grime. Apparently digging around to find dust made one dirty, who knew?
"Weapons, please." By the entrance was a finely dressed man. He was large, large enough to intimidate the already fairly tall Jaune. He also had a shotgun, with Jaune able to see the gleam of an explosive dust slug inside which could make a serious dent in even Jaune's aura.
"Sure." Jaune handed over Crocea Mors, sword and shield-sheath. He was rather attached to it, but in the end he'd rather keep the peace and stick to the rules (mostly because he understood why it was in place) than cause a fuss.
"Whatever." Raiden handed over his weapon. "Say, could I keep these bullets?" He pulled out the speed loader. "I'm paying with them."
"Go ahead." The bouncer tilted his head, motioning for the two to walk on in. He didn't even ask for Jaune's ID, which made sense given that he looked old enough. Plus, it was the bartender's job to not serve booze to kids, not the bouncer's to not let kids in.
"I think that witch called this sort of place a cantina. Ah, whatever." Raiden mumbled under his breath as they walked over to the bar. "Hey, what sort of meal can we get with this?" He put the speedloader down so the bartender, a similarly threatening looking man with a sizable revolver at his hip, could see. "Drinks would be nice, too."
"You can get a one ounce go fuck yourself burger with that." The bartender was unamused. "You clearly have been chipping off the dust on the bullet, I mean, look at that!" The problem with bartering with bullets was how haggling worked. With Lien, one couldn't really devalue it. Lien was either its value or not its value, but with bullets the seller could easily point out issues.
"Are ya blind? This is a perfectly fine and functioning explosive shot for revolvers like that pretty pistol on your hip! If you want to test it, go straight ahead, but I just want something to eat and drink! We don't care if it's swill and a slice of bread, just give us something!" Wait, swill and a slice of bread? Now that was a bit-
"Fine, fine. I'll get you a small meal for this. Better than waiting for the next shipment to come on by." The man rolled his eyes before slapping together the cheapest thing he could. He got some watered down whisky, stale bread, thin slices of ham, and some greens to make a kind of crappy sandwich, one for each of them. "Here you go."
"Thanks." Raiden didn't put much appreciation in his words, but Jaune could understand why. It wasn't really a good meal, then again, did anyone eat like a king out here? There were hunters that brought in game and herbs, but that was expensive, more expensive than what bullets could get 'em. "Eat up, you'll need the strength."
"Yeah, got it." Jaune complied. It was better to eat bland food than starve, that much was common sense. "I'm feeling better about just having a sword and shield, now."
"Good. Though simple stuff like that is good and all, sharp sticks aren't good for everyone. You can use 'em well enough cause you have aura and I've been helping you beef up. But we were dedicating a lot of time to training your aura. And you know what time is?"
"Money?"
"Pretty much." Raiden seemed like he was going to say something smart as a joke, but couldn't come up with anything in time. "Most can't afford to spend all their time training their aura, gotta make ends meet, you know? Plus, while it makes you stronger, it also makes you first pick for defending against Grimm, and that's a one way ticket to dying if you're half-assing it." Raiden didn't mince words as he absolutely went to town on his sandwich. "Trust me, kid, I've seen a lot of idiots die because they couldn't understand that."
"Got it." Jaune gulped and took an internal note.
"Anyways, out here, guns are king. Everyone has a gun. Revolver, rifle, anything really works, as long as it doesn't require a lotta maintenance and can take dust rounds, it's good." Raiden pointed at the weapon storage, which had dozens upon dozens of guns in comparison to their blades and someone else's large ax.
"Oh yeah, I probably should've given my flare gun." Jaune blinked and chuckled in embarrassment.
"Kid, nobody's going to care about that. The most it could do is give someone a bad burn, even then they'd do more damage while you reload than you could ever hope to do to them." Jaune wasn't so sure about that, the Flare had killed the Beowolf, but it was at point blank, so who knew? "Anyways, quiet, I sense something's off."
"Wha-" Raiden's prediction proved to be true when Jaune could hear the sounds of a horse's gallop. It came closer and closer until it stopped at the door, whereupon a figure burst through the door, making his presence known. All was silent as everyone got a good look at the figure.
He was wearing an old duster and cowboy hat, which obscured his face. He had nary a word to say as he walked into the saloon, nor did anyone move their lips, for as he walked they saw the big iron on his hip. He walked up to a table with a game of poker, saw as the turn was skipped.
Four men sat, but one stood out in particular for being exceptionally clean. He had a cowboy hat as well, but in contrast to the black of the stranger's, he wore red. Crimson, in specific. Instead of a duster, he had a fine red suit on him that made him look out of place, like an actor in a movie instead of an actual prospector. He smiled and looked up to the stranger.
"Say, want a hand?" He brought the cards and had quite a bit of Lien in the pot. "Poker, it's fun."
"You Texas Red?" The man suddenly pulled out a poster, laying it on the table. On it was a black and white photo of the man in red, with a litany of crimes listed. Bank robbery, shipment hijacking, dust thievery, aggravated assault, premeditated murder, and property damage. Dead or alive, it said.
"So what if I am?" The man, now known as Texas Red, simply smiled. "I'm just a simple man of wealth and taste, deciding to play a few games out here in the Midlands."
The man pulled out his gun, putting everyone on edge and getting staff members to draw theirs. Though they tried, none could do it as quickly as the odd ranger did. "I've been looking for you, Texas Red. You're supposed to hang, that's just it."
"And you think you'll be the one to put me in the gallows?" Texas Red laughed, apparently amused by the threat. "What makes you say that?"
"I got you at Oyster's Peak, just didn't see your face."
"... Ah, you're the one who hit my side. Was wondering who got lucky." Texas Red gave the stranger an appraising look and smiled as he saw the gun. "My, my, that's an awfully nice piece you got there. But are you really going to shoot an unarmed man like myself? I mean, at least give me a fighting chance! Or are you a sissy?"
"..." The stranger holstered his gun, though everyone wasn't put off guard in the slightest. "Outside. You have ten minutes. Make your peace, say your goodbyes. You'll hang today, Texas Red."
"Or you'll water the grass with your blood like a put down dog." Texas Red brought up the possibility, to which the lonesome gunman shrugged before walking away. There was silence in the saloon as the weighty steps continued, until finally it was empty of the lonesome ranger. Then, the entire place was ablaze with chatter. Jaune finally noticed something odd: That the place was way more packed than it should've and that many people had been staring at Texas Red.
It was normal at the moment, but if memory serves correctly, people were doing so even before his identity was outed. Even then, it didn't seem like much of a surprise to most. Jaune looked at Raiden, who was simply trying to enjoy his drink.
"H-hey, what was that about?" Jaune's inquiry was met with the swirling of a cloudy and chipped glass.
"Bounty hunter or something, looking to claim that bandit's head. Bounty looks nice as well. Would try to claim it myself, but I don't really feel like it." Raiden shrugged. "Plus, that guy already staked his claim. And also it seems like most of these folks don't feel like risking it. Maybe they're just afraid, maybe they aren't on the right side of the law themselves. Who knows?"
"So, are they going to duel?" Jaune wondered what that was about.
"Yep. Something, some sense of honor, something stupid. Then again, I'm Mistrali, so who am I to talk?" Raiden laughed in grim humor at the bad joke. "Anyways, it doesn't matter if Texas Red dies or lives, that hunter gets the bounty either way. Problem? Seems like a buncha people want something else outta him."
"I noticed." Jaune went back to eating his meal. Even if he had his weapon, there wasn't anything but the implication and threat of violence. Plus, this was the reaping of a bounty, something Jaune really didn't feel like intervening in.
"Jeez, what a mess." Texas Red sighed at his table as he played one last hand, coming up with a two pair of black aces and eights. "Let's get on with it. Hand me my gun, would ya?" He nonchalantly grabbed his revolver, a pretty impressive looking weapon on its own, and walked out of the saloon. Almost immediately, everyone followed him out. Even Jaune and Raiden, who'd finished their meals and drinks (with the alcohol content in the whisky so watered down and his aura working fast enough that the alcohol felt more like lemon juice), came out to watch.
On one end was the stranger, whose face still couldn't be seen. On the other was Texas Red, spinning his revolver as he walked out.
"Need a count?" The stranger asked, not bothering with being showy.
"Nah." Texas Red had a confident smile. "Let's just do this." Then, they both took positions. For all his cockiness, Jaune saw in that moment that Texas Red wasn't without reason for it. His arm was tense and his stance good. His holster was made for fast drawing and his gun was already cocked.
But as his hand touched the grips of his gun, a loud bang rang out. The stranger in black with a big iron had already played his hand and Texas Red was found wanting in his speed. One shot, two shots, three shots all went. One in each knee and another on Texas Red's gun, slamming it out of the man's holster.
"W-what!?" Texas Red fell to his knees in pain and groaned, bleeding out. "What is-?" The stranger was before him, the big iron pressed against the outlaw's forehead. "Oh, oh." It was there that Texas Red saw them, the gleaming eyes of the stranger. "This is the end, ain't it?"
"Yes." But before the sentence could be carried out and another tale could be ended, a voice rang out.
"Hey, where the hell is it!?" One of the people watching Texas Red yelled out of the crowd. "Where's your treasure? Your stash? Your riches!?" He was asking a soon to be deadman about where his cash was. Raiden seemed interested, but soon shook his head, as if arguing with his thoughts about something.
"Yeah, where is it!?" Other voices also shouted out, repeating similar questions. They all wanted to know where Texas Red's money was. Jaune reckoned they were all probably bandits as well, he could see the notches on their pistols. They'd been following Texas Red, looking for the jackpot.
"Huh?" Texas Red was living up to his name, bleeding so much that it painted the ground beneath him red. "Oh." He smiled as he saw the hammer of the stranger's gun be cocked back, ready to do the deed. His last words before meeting the end were, "You'll find the start of the trail easily, just search for the map!"
The stranger didn't let him say anymore as he pulled the trigger. But none of the people there cared about that. No, they were focused on something else. They whispered amongst each other and Jaune felt a sense of foreboding.
"Hey, kid. Don't get involved. I know I said we needed money, but this sort of thing is a real quick ticket to getting shot. A lot. And while I know aura makes you feel invincible, two dozen bullets still does quite a bit of damage." Raiden quickly dissuaded the already very uninterested Jaune from a very thorny and obviously deadly path.
"Yeah, I got it. Don't worry."
Jaune woke up in the middle of the night to gunshots. The rest of the day had been spent with Raiden and Jaune searching for dust. Luckily, they got a crystal that was large enough for a night's stay in a local place, though not enough for them to get breakfast. That was a worry for the next day, as the two had used up a surprising amount of energy just searching for dust.
As he traversed the wild with Raiden, Jaune had learned to be a light sleeper. Though the Grimm took little notice of most dreamers, Jaune's worries and fears often led to nightmares, which attracted Grimm, which he realized and caused him and Raiden many sleepless nights as they slaughtered Grimm attracted to Jaune's fear.
The same applied to Raiden. While he was used to being on the road enough to not have nightmares about it, he'd still be on guard, obviously.
So the two of them had woken up instantly when they heard a sharp gunshot out the window. The two of them bolted up, picked up their weapons, and bolted out the door only to see dust kicked up and, in the distance, horses running. It was early in the morning, just as dawn had broken, so it didn't disturb their sleep schedule too much.
But that wasn't what mattered. No, what mattered was that, about a block away from them, the stables were on fire. Neither Jaune nor Raiden could afford a horse, but out in the wild such a steed was probably better transport. No need for roads, mechanical skill, or to burn what was essentially money for the sake of fast transport. Yes, motor vehicles were faster, but they were impractical in the wild.
Anyways, they were burning and the horses had already run out.
"Oh shit!" Raiden's eyes widened. "Get a bucket or something, we gotta put this out!" The river was nearby, luckily enough, but they didn't have anything good to carry the water in.
"I got something!" Jaune saw a bucket through a hole burnt through the stables, likely used to wash the horses, and managed to dive through the hole to pick it up. He handed it to Raiden, who used his semblance to quickly grab and spray water onto the fire. A few minutes passed as the process continued, Raiden looking a bit worse for wear with each charge of his semblance.
The stable owner, an old woman who was carrying her shotgun when she noticed the fire, asked Jaune what was going on. He told her the story and she seemingly understood they weren't the culprits.
"Ok, it's done." Raiden was panting and heavily sweating by the time the fire was entirely put out. But the damage was done already and the place would need to be rebuilt. It was a good thing it was made out of hastily put together framing and wood, but the point still stood that it'd be pretty costly. The stable owner thanked them and promised a good meal for their service and took a quick moment to assess the damages.
Meanwhile, Jaune looked at Raiden, who wasn't looking too good after all the exertion. Seriously, he seemed to be on the verge of a heart attack. Jaune saw the bucket, which still had some water in it, before deciding against it and handing Raiden a canteen. The old man took it without a word and chugged the liquid, taking a few more breaths before letting out a long sigh.
"Sorry. I don't try to use my semblance much anymore. Turns out becoming lightning does a number on the heart, who knew?" He laughed bitterly as he pounded his chest, begging it to shut up. " Anyways, let's see what's up." Right of cue, the stable owner walked out carrying nothing. "I mean, I kind of want to know what's up in there, don't you?"
"Yeah." There was something off, something making Jaune's stomach sick. "Let's go in." What it was made Jaune wished he never did. Then again, it would be hard to escape that truth. Still, a selfish part of him would rather simply hear of tragedy rather than see it himself. It was selfish, yes, Jaune couldn't help but feel shame over having it, yes, but it was still there and refused to leave.
Inside of the stables were corpses. About a dozen could be counted at once, the fire had been stopped quickly, so their clothes were intact. Jaune could recognize some of them as people who'd been inside the saloon, all of them now dead. Their guns were by their sides and blood was still pooling.
"No signs of life." Raiden opened his eyes and sighed. "Well, do you have any idea why this happened?" Raiden looked at Jaune, who closed his eyes in thought. It was only when he opened them to see a dead horse did Jaune get an idea.
"Maybe they were looking for Texas Red's treasure map?" None of the people there were ransacked. It was a clash over something, but most of the horses had run, except one, of course: The dead and red horse of Texas Red.
"Better guess than mine. Jeez, what was with that guy and red?" Raiden didn't look impressed at the consistency of Texas Red's color scheme. "Whatever, people gotta have a gimmick or something. Dunno why murderers feel the need to be unique, but I ain't going to question it." Raiden let it go before kneeling down towards the nearest corpse, rummaging through its clothes.
"What are you doing?" Jaune looked vaguely disturbed at the blatant attempt at corpse robbery.
"Looking for something." Raiden also pocketed some Lien, but that wasn't what he was searching for. "Ah, here it is." He pulled out a knife which had some weird symbol carved on the handle. Jaune looked at it, confused as to what it was. "You'll find the same shit on most of these other guys. And a different thing on the rest. It's a marker, a token of admission." A pause. "Bandit gang, they were part of a bandit gang. Just look here." He rolled up the sleeves to show the arm of the dead man, where there was a name branded with rough font, "Bloody Cobra."
"What the-" Jaune winced at the sight of the branding, but Raiden was unphased.
"Hey, tattoo ink is hard to get out here. Hot irons? A bit tough, but easy enough." He clearly didn't like the thing, but he knew why it was there and why they used hot irons. Plus, that sort of pain would either ensure loyalty or make the hesitant think twice. "Anyways, I think you're right. They found the location of the map and got into a little gunfight." While he was on it, Raiden began looking for the wound on the body. He found it near the neck, hitting an artery. "Jeez, that's a tough way to go." He closed the open and pained eyes of the corpse and looked at Jaune. "What are you doing just standing there? Help me carry the body outside!"
"O-oh, right!" Jaune did so, the two of them easily carried the corpse where the floor was softer and there wasn't a roof liable to collapse any second. "So, what now?"
"We get the rest of the bodies and bury 'em." Raiden sighed. "Jeez, what a pain." He grumbled as he and Jaune walked back in. The squire was feeling a bit antsy about being near corpses, but he powered through it. He'd seen one or two before, but those were always from Grimm, which was worse. But seeing the bodies created by human hands? The single bloody hole shot through flesh, leaking blood like a crimson solar eclipse? That was something that got under Jaune's skin easily.
"..." He hated the eyes most of all. They were a window to the soul and now he was looking at the soul's corpse. It was horrifying, like the fire within suddenly exploded and mangled everything in its death throes. It was a snapshot of pain and terror that he'd never forget, an image that would stay with him as he closed the eyes. A part of him tried to reckon it was for the dead's peace, but really it was to make himself comfortable. Still, what was so wrong with that?
"Well, these guys aren't exactly idiots." Raiden looked at the make of the guns. "They've been taking care of their revolvers, have AP shots, and have plenty of scars. Scars mean survival, which means experience." Indeed, Raiden had pointed out several healed bullet and scars wounds on the bodies they've been looking at. "Survived Grimm as well." Similar marks to Jaune's. Beowolves, Ursai, even the occasional Nevermore feather stab.
"Why would they-"
"Resort to being bandits? Because it's easy. I mean, why bother gambling for dust when you can just rob the poor schmuck who got lucky?" Raiden's reasoning was simple and easy to understand, but it still left Jaune unsatisfied. "Look, kid, I know you like to believe in the innate goodness of folks, but isn't this entire scene proof of what they've chosen? There's always going to be people who just shoot the guy next to them cause he has something they want. It's not pretty, it's not good, but it's going to be true because that's just how things are sometimes."
"..." Jaune let out a long sigh, Raiden had been trying to beat that lesson in Jaune's head over and over. Luckily, Jaune had been lucky enough to not have his naivety taken advantage of. "Got it." He understood what Raiden was saying. He knew it was right, but Jaune knew there was much greater in the world. Most people were honest and weren't like that.
"Whatever." Raiden didn't push. "Banditry ain't a reason to not give a proper funeral. Let's just take some burial fees." Jaune gave Raiden an unamused look as he took their Lien straight from their pockets. "Shut up, we need cash. Do you want to eat grass?"
"Fine, fine." Jaune relented, only if under the threat of his stomach revolting. "So, how do we bury them?"
"With a shovel." Ridden grabbed one that was in the stable, probably just as a general tool or for throwing out horse feces. "Go to the yard and start digging graves, as deep as you are tall. I'll just look at these things to get some ideas." As Raiden did his work of robbing corpses, Jaune did his own with the shovel in the yard.
It was tough. Apparently, digging a hole was a bit harder than just whacking at the dirt. No, it was monotonous and more than a bit taxing. He stabbed the earth and loosened the soil before tossing an ounce or so of the dirt to the side. Stab, loosen, and toss. Stab, loosen, and toss. It went on and on as he modified the length and width of the hole so a body could fit in it, while he also dug deeper and deeper, sometimes having to deal with the crumbling earth as gravity sought to work its magic.
He didn't count how many bodies were in the stable, but he knew it was more than a handful. He dug more graves than he needed, just in case, and made twenty holes in decent time. It took a while, yes, but he had also been doing strength and endurance training for the past few weeks. He just thought of this as but another method of testing both of those qualities.
When he finished with the final grave, he saw Raiden, carrying the last of twenty one bodies.
"Son of a-"
"Yeah, I know." Raiden could count. "Don't worry, I'll dig the last one. Hand me the shovel. Start tossing 'em in graves." Raiden took the gardening implement with the grace of an experienced miner while Jaune took the unenviable position of tossing dead people into holes in the ground. He tried to let them down softly, but winced as things snapped or tore or stretched or did other things they weren't supposed to.
Gently, he put them down. One by one, he put the bandits in their holes in the ground. He saw two different marks, two different gangs. Though, one, which was named the Raging Hawks, was totally decimated. Their clothes were much rougher and their members had less scars, perhaps they were just less experienced than their killers? It certainly made sense, given how the one Bloody Cobra member they found was the one riddled with scars.
Experience made for a cruel, but effective teacher to those willing to learn.
By the time Jaune had finished with the 20th body, Raiden had dug up the 21st grave for Jaune to place the last corpse into. When all was said and done, the only thing left to do was fill the holes back in with the loosened soil, which was easier said than done. Jaune unleashed Crocea Mors' shield just to help him shovel a little faster.
It took another hour, but in the end they had made a miniature graveyard.
"Welp, let's see if we can follow those Cobras." Raiden counted the bloody Lien they looted before tossing it into a pocket.
"W-what, why!?" That sounded outrageously stupid. Plus, didn't Raiden warn Jaune not to chase Texas Red's treasure? (A part of Jaune just didn't want to see the corpses
"Because a gang of bandits after some big treasure is bound to become two gangs of bandits going after a big treasure. And that's bound to become a bunch of idiots with guns looking for a big treasure. My point is that they'll get into an argument and we'll have to bury their bodies." Raiden said it all with experienced indifference. He wasn't joyous over the possibility, but he didn't particularly care either.
"You just want their Lien, don't you?"
"Yep. So sue me, they're bandits. Might as well be a crow and pick at their carrion." Raiden shrugged. "Gotta follow opportunities. And my gut says that opportunity is the path of undertaking."
"Yeah, yeah. How are we even going to follow them? They have horses!" Jaune pointed out the obvious.
"We walk. They're bound to stop at some point. We know the road they're going on and can track the prints. Either that or we buy a horse." Raiden looked at the Lien he had on hand.
"Rent?"
"Yeah, I'm tired of walking."
On the (rented for a week's time with Raiden's weapon and Lien as collateral) pale horse of death did Jaune and Raiden ride on the road of the Midlands, tracking the heavy stampede of prints that was made in a hurry as the Bloody Cobras departed from Auga Fria. Raiden had, with the spare cash he had on him, bought an SDC brand survival knife. It was mass manufactured and kind of unbalanced, yes, but Raiden needed little more to gut a Beowolf like a fish.
The route was scenic and the air fresh, with the rivers that ran through the mountains ensuring the greenery was bright and healthy.
"When did you learn how to ride a horse?" Raiden seemed a bit miffed that his student was proficient in something he wasn't. Whether that was competitive nature, fragile pride, or petty jealousy speaking was unclear, but Jaune could sense it regardless.
"Eh, I did." He forgot when exactly he learned how, but it came naturally enough. "So, what are we looking for?"
"The end of the trail. Either that or somewhere they stopped at for a while. I doubt that the treasure map leads directly to Texas Red's secret cave of wonders." After all, who'd carry such a thing? "Stop here." Raiden's instruction came quickly and Jaune responded in turn, motioning for the horse to slow down until it eventually came to a halt. Raiden, with a bit of effort and fuss, got off of the horse and motioned for Jaune to stay on, just in case it tried to run.
Raiden grabbed a long branch and poked at the bushes, seemingly at random.
He slowly walked in, pressing the ground before every step, right until the branch hit something and a snare tried wrapping it up. Though Jaune's eyes widened, Raiden was unsurprised. He walked in a bit more and more until he found something which Jaune couldn't see.
He brought it back to the main road, making extra sure not to trigger any traps by tracing his exact steps. When he made it back, Jaune almost wished he hadn't.
Because it was a corpse. Killed by a gunshot to the head, but credit really went to the venom tipped bear trap that had snared its leg. Its furious expression told that the killing wasn't out of mercy, it was just due to expedience. After all, a poisoned man with a grievous injury like that was a liability. And while they were at it, might as well cut one more person out of their share.
"Texas Red's got a sick sense of humor, I'll tell ya." Raiden sighed as even he winced at the sight of the bear trap as it continued to dig into the man's flesh, the tension occasionally causing another small river of blood to leak out. "And it seems there's no honor among thieves." The bullet obviously didn't come from the very dead Texas Red and any trap he might've set definitely wouldn't aim for something as fickle as the head.
"Let's bury him." It was the least one could do.
"Good thing we brought the shovel." The stable owner gladly gave it to them as well as a discount for the rental horse. It was the least she could do for saving their place and cleaning up, after all. As Jaune dug, with Raiden pretending it was for the sake of his training (when in reality he was an old man who just didn't feel like bothering), Raiden was ransacking the body. Their corpse had been left undisturbed, they were probably scared of triggering a trap while trying to loot it.
So they left a gun, which Raiden took, bullets, which Raiden took, Lien, which Raiden took, and the weird knife, which Raiden left. Why? Because he'd rather use whatever mass manufactured crap the SDC made than whatever the hell the shiv the bandits made was. He gave the revolver a good spin, counting the shots in the cylinder. They buried the body in good time, with Raiden confirming as he got a look at the brand on the arm that it was a Bloody Cobra. Two confirmed dead, it seemed.
"Stay with the horse. Don't let it wander in." Because if it got wounded, they'd have to pay a lot of money as compensation. That and Jaune really didn't want the horse to get hurt. So, he let Raiden test the forest for traps, using a stick and observation skills to poke and prod until he created a free pathway. He discovered two more corpses, each with bullet holes. It seemed that whoever was the leader was pretty cold-hearted. Then again, the rush of greed did quite a number on one's morals, especially if they were already lax.
Eventually, he let Jaune in, though Raiden was the one to stay with the horse. His excuse? For Jaune to get used to doing things alone and going through trapped areas by himself. Well, that latter bit may have already been pointless, given that Texas Red's house was totally trashed. It was a log cabin, possibly stolen from someone else, and its door was kicked in. They likely got annoyed enough with the place to just go with the path of destruction. Besides the entrance knocked off of its hinges, Jaune could see nothing else.
He walked in to find no traps, at least none left behind. It kind of made sense, who'd trap their own home? If they got past the forest, then they sure as hell would get through any countermeasures the home held. Jaune could definitely see it as Texas Red's place. Why?
Because they were a large portrait of Texas Red and about a dozen wanted posters with increasing levels of quality to the photograph or illustration and size of the bounty. The guy loved his own image, it seemed, and reveled in being a wanted outlaw. For being someone who supposedly robbed several transports of Lien, it was remarkably free of money or treasure of any sort.
Jaune found spare clothes of the same crimson red clothes, some spare guns, bullets, and other stuff, but nothing else. He looked around and around and around and around until he found something notable. Then again, half of anything in the ego-stroking lair made into a home could be called notable. But what he found on the floor caught his eye. It was an envelope with an odd wax seal on the letter, which was mostly intact. It looked recently opened, at least from the lack of dust, so he took it and then traced his path back to Raiden.
Apparently, he had been talking to the horse, which Jaune decided to not question as he showed him the empty envelope.
"Hmmm. This is SDC banking, insignia's right there." Raiden whistled as he looked at it. "I think I know where they're going."
"Where?"
"The one place the SDC owns in the Midlands. It's Hunter's Respite, or simply called The Fort. It's near the mountains itself and in an area with lower amounts of Grimm. The SDC trucks its supplies there and takes the Dust traded in it. Alongside those services, it also has a bank, a hospital, and even a school. It's a company town." Raiden explained it as he looked at the seal closely, just making sure of the veracity of his claim. "Texas Red stored his crap in there, not hard to see. That's probably the treasure everyone's looking for. Either they have a key and are going to open a safety deposit box that holds god knows what, or they're going to take the extreme risk of holding up the bank to get whatever's inside."
"That sounds risky." Jaune had mounted the pale horse once more, noticing that Raiden had buried the other two bodies in slightly shallow graves to save himself the trouble.
"No duh. It's basically the biggest risk here. Causing trouble at Hunter's Respite is a death sentence. The SDC would offer pretty good money to off those who violate its authority." Raiden moved his thumb across his neck, just to make the point clear.
"What about Texas Red?"
"I didn't see an SDC symbol on his bounty. Even if there was, he probably disguised himself. While being wanted by the SDC is a death sentence in these parts, there's also no better place to store your stuff around here. Either that or you go to the middle of nowhere and bury everything in a thrice locked vault. And even then, you're risking some miner digging it up and nabbing your life savings." Raiden explained it simply.
"Grimm!" Jaune had the horse halt, which kicked Raiden off as he didn't have a good grip on the steed. He recovered quickly, the only mark of pain being his grumbling over back aches as he quickly shot the Beowolf in front of them in the eyes before running up and slitting its throat. Raiden was quick and efficient even without his semblance.
"It was heading forward. I think I see more Grimm ahead, but I don't know what they're doing." Raiden hopped back on the pale horse and they rode forward, Raiden reloading his revolver as he did so. In a minute or so, they got close enough for Raiden to be comfortable getting off and decimating the Grimm that were flocking to the scene like carrion.
What they found was rather grim. A horse, shot in the leg, and its rider, face planted in the dirt, broken neck being the cause of death. All the other cuts and stab wounds from Grimm were just postmortem mangling. Jaune hopped off the horse and quickly released the contents of his stomach into the bushes, simply too overwhelmed by the sight. Raiden didn't chastise him, who could? Even he wasn't feeling too good seeing such a thing.
"Poor bastard, lucky his neck snapped." Because if it didn't, he would've been in for a whole other world of hurt. As it was, it was just a shit sight. "Hmmm, other corpses are ahead. Probably the same thing."
"W-why?"
"Let me check." Raiden quickly looked at the few spots on the body that weren't absolutely coated in viscera, finding the same mark on the corpse. "Bloody Cobra. I'll bet good money that the other corpses are the same."
"Why?"
"Mutiny. This guy has less wounds, see? Well, less scars." Raiden winced at the bad choice of words. "And the iron was applied recently, what with how his brand hasn't totally set in just yet. I'll bet a good number of these bodies are gonna be the same."
"Ok, but what does this have to do with anything?" Jaune really wasn't seeing the writing on the wall. It was probably the abject horror of the corpses clouding his deductive reason.
"Well, think about it. Whoever was leading these guys just shot three of the other guys cause they got hit by a trap. Now, for the old guard, this is probably nothing new. Hell, I'm willing to bet he only shot the new people. But for said new blood? They're spooked knowing how easily they could be capped. So they talk amongst each other, prod around a bit, and then stage a mutiny on the others. Kill them before they can be killed, that whole shebang." Raiden explained it as he incinerated the corpse, turning his hand into pure lightning that vaporized everything. Jaune couldn't say what was worse, burying the mess of gore or smelling it being burned to nothing.
"Ok, fine. Did they succeed?" Jaune didn't know what was better. The new blood killing the old guard, leaving their rotting corpses to the Grimm, and then stealing another bandit's last treasure to further fund their blood soaked lives, or the same happening with the more experienced bandits.
"I'd say no. The leader probably saw it coming a mile away. He either shot first or got lucky and retaliated." Raiden's words turned out to be perfect predictions, as they soon found out that most of the corpses were newer recruits. One was heavily scarred, either a member of the old guard or one of them who wanted the leader to die. Either way, he was dead in the dirt and now simply ashes on the wind.
Jaune's stomach was out of things to let out by the last corpse, but he was never inured to the sheer horror of what had happened. Raiden, for all of his harsh words and tactless nature, didn't say a word as he left no traces of the men or horses that had fallen.
It had taken a few hours for Jaune to recover fully from that. Raiden had given him some jerky to chew on, to help his empty stomach. With the help of some signs and people on the road, they got directions towards Hunter's Respite, finding it in view within a few hours. Of course, in those few hours the Cobras that survived likely had either held up the bank, were holding up the bank, or had just used a key to get the contents of the safety deposit box and left peacefully. Jaune could only hope for the last one, as any fight within the town walls was bound to be bloody.
Luckily, there were no sirens or gunshots ringing through the air as they made their way to the official SDC bank. One of the features it had was a safety deposit box, which normally was a novelty or holdover from older days but in this bank, it was actually pretty useful. After all, out in the frontier, there weren't many other places to hide something. Anyways, Jaune and Raiden had asked around if anyone saw the bandits.
They specifically asked about the brandings. Apparently, the Cobras were smart enough not to pick fights with the SDC, so they weren't to be shot on sight. As such, the Cobras felt comfortable enough to head into Hunter's Respite and the bank without a disguise. They asked the clerk and even a few other people there if they saw anyone with said tattoos. In the end, after telling the teller of why they were searching, they were told that they'd left a while ago. It was pretty much a dead end and the two of them got some food from a cafe, paying with the money they ransacked from the corpses.
"The teller said that they left a while ago." Raiden savored the admittedly mediocre shepherd's pie they had ordered, as did Jaune. Besides the jerky for Jaune, neither of them have had any food for the entire day. Their last proper meal was that half assed sandwich and watered down whisky, which Jaune could actually go for more of if it meant not tasting his own bile. Well, the pie was better. "Said they took some box out of the safety deposit."
"What do you think is in it?"
"I dunno, a Lien card loaded with a billion? Winning lottery tickets? Just a bunch of Lien? Priceless jewelry? Who knows." Raiden shrugged, refusing to bet for sure on the answer until he either had that box in hand or it was open in front of him. "We should probably ask around the gates if they saw any of them."
"That sounds good." Jaune washed down the pie with some cheap orange soda. It was sweet as hell and barely recognizable as orange, but it was good. It was the first taste of unhealthy crap he'd had in a long time.
The two of them immediately got to work, going towards the gates of Hunter's Respite and asking the guards if they saw some rough looking people in a large group on horses. Turns out, that was a pretty rare occurrence, and they were directed on the Southwestern road. Jaune and Raiden rode on the pale horse, riding until they saw smoke.
"Campfire. Wanna check it out?" Jaune looked at Raiden. It was evening by then, the sun would go down soon and with it, the Grimm would start going on the prowl. Being out during night meant limited visibility, which meant easy pickings for the monsters of the night.
"Sure, might as well." Raiden hopped off and walked through the forest, coming closer and closer to the source of the smoke. "Hey, come here!" Raiden yelled from within, with Jaune deciding to comply, bringing both him and the horse towards the voice. After a minute or so of trotting, they made it.
The Cobras had made camp, it seemed. There was a corpse by the fire, face first in the dirt as the soil and grass sipped away at the puddle of blood it oozed. It was fresh as well, blood still flowing, but he was long gone. The shot was straight through the head, the sight of another horrifying crimson eclipse made Jaune sick to his stomach.
"Seems like even the old guard are stabbing backs." Raiden remarked with forced neutrality as he searched the body, finding bullets and some Lien. "From the looks of it, he got up, tried to shoot at someone, but was hit in the head as he tried to pursue." It seemed that way, what with the position of the body. "From the way it's facing, we're going that way. Careful now, no telling if anyone's alive and hostile." Raiden led the way, Jaune and the pale horse following slowly behind. There was little risk of traps, but the slow movements let them listen intently for any signs of life.
There were none.
"Hey, Raiden?"
"Yeah, kid?"
"Will I have to bury more if I become a huntsman?" They were probably saving that earlier corpse for later, when they fully tallied all the dead.
"Yep. It's our job. One after another, corpse after corpse. Burial after cremation after funeral. At least, that's what you do if you're a huntsman on the front." Raiden shrugged. "I didn't learn it for a while. In my youth, it was just going out, killing some Grimm, and coming back to the city. Casualties were distant tragedies." Raiden had a look of disdain for his former ignorance. "Oh how cruelly that distance was broken when I had to bury Tukao. Then Aiki. Then Tonga." Towns now just statistics.
"..." Jaune gulped. A path paved with corpses lay ahead of him, yet something (stupid) (curious) (selfish) (heroic) (desperate) (determined) within him called him forward, refusing to let him stray the path. "Another body, over there."
"Alright." Raiden looked at the corpse. This time, the shot came from behind. But it was still facing front, the direction they were heading. "Any ideas?"
"Well, he was chasing after someone. Maybe one of them took off with the treasure, the rest ran forward, and someone in the chasing group got an idea and shot one of their own in the back of the head?" Jaune put the piece together, seeing so many corpses in so short a time desensitized him a bit. At least, he was numb enough to the horror for his logical side to work properly.
"Good guess. That sounds about right. Let's see if there are more corpses ahead." Raiden and Jaune went on forward.
"Hey, Raiden? Why does everyone use revolvers out here? Why not something like a semi-automatic pistol?" Revolvers had smaller magazines, slower to reload, and also just kind of worse than normal pistols.
"Well they're cheap, for one. Seriously though, it's because ammo out here can get sparse. It's easier to just chuck bullets into your pocket and load into the cylinder than to fuss about with loading magazines all the time." There was a pause as Raiden considered the answer. "You know what? It's mostly because they're cheap. I'm sure if the SDC could be bothered, they'd be shipping machine guns out here for everyone above the age of ten to wield as they mow down Grimm by the second. But I doubt anyone not sponsored by the SDC could afford to do such a thing.
"Got it." They slowly went forward, with Grimm slowly becoming more and more common. It seemed they were flocking to the scene of the fight, mauling corpses and trying to turn them into mincemeat. Raiden was swift, throwing his knife to slit the throats of any unlucky Grimm that came by. He refrained from shooting the revolvers he'd stolen, for noise would just attract more trouble.
They found a few more corpses, mauled this time. Three of them in the forest, in various directions. It seemed after the initial split, they fell into the trap of infighting. The bullets left in their cylinders and the shells left on the ground told as much of a story. Bullet after bullet left their casings, flying through the air like shooting stars until they either hit wood or flesh.
The fourth corpse was slumped against a tree. From both the wound on the side of his head and the mark on the tree, Raiden reckoned that a reflecting bullet bounced off of the wood and hit the guy. He'd been reloading at the time as well. But he'd gotten off two shots on his opponent, what with only four being found in the dirt or stone. There was a bloody trail leading inwards as well, which the two of them followed silently.
Raiden lit a torch and they followed in shortly to find the final corpse, hand limply holding a revolver, and hole in his head. He'd shot himself. As for why, the two of them looked at the final bandit's lap, where a puzzle box sat, now open.
Inside of it was a Mistrali (actually made by a Vacuan) fortune cookie.
"LIen unspent is lien saved." Jaune read the first sentence, squinting to ignore how the font was obscured by blood.
"Lien saved is Lien hoarded." Raiden winced as he saw the look of absolute despair on the dead man's face.
"Lien hoarded is Lien wasted." Jaune was starting to see where it was going.
"Spend Lien as if tossing water out the door."
"For you'll never know if it'll be the last Lien you spend."
The two of them sat in absolute silence as they stared at the fortune cookie and the corpse. One corpse of forty made that fateful day. Jaune and Raiden swiftly got to work, taking anything of worth off of the body before dragging it out. Jaune helped bring the other five from the forest to the first one found by the fire. They then got to burials with impromptu tools, a frustrating process that Raiden didn't budge on.
"So in the end, it was pointless?" Jaune felt extremely unsatisfied by the end. Forty people died, and for what? For a fortune cookie paper? For nothing? Was this just Texas Red's idea of a sick joke? One last scornful flipped bird to anyone who thought they could get a single Lien of his riches that never existed in the first place?
"Yep." Raiden used his hands to dig up the graves. Old, wrinkled, and strong. "They shot and maimed and clawed and killed each other. From two gangs to one. From one gang to half. And from half a gang to a crew of people trying to kill each other. All of it for greed. It's the Midlands, after all. For those who stay here too long, they become too fixated on the promises made, they become sick. Sick with a fever that tempts them to do horrible things. All for riches that become swiftly pointless." Raiden shrugged. "It's what happens."
"Jeez. I wonder what treasure would've made it worth it."
"At this point? I doubt even a million Lien would've helped. That guy had just shot the only people willing to stick around. He had also been shot in the knees with no medical supplies in a place that was about to be infested with Grimm. He was dead either way. That little sick joke from Texas Red? That was just the nail in the coffin. The confirmation that it was all for nothing."
"I'm glad you told me to stay out of the chase." Jaune had the digging a bit easier, using his shield once more.
"Yep. In the Midlands, it's not the miners who make the cash. It's the shopkeepers, the bar owners, and the gravediggers."
The bandits were given a short burial before Jaune and Raiden set off with their guns, their ammo, and their Lien. With the final corpse given final rites, the entire hunt for Texas Red's treasure was given an end. Not an end of riches and glory, but the finale of an equation.
Forty men entered a town, nineteen exited. Nineteen came near a house, sixteen left. Sixteen went towards Hunter's Respite, seven entered. Seven left the town, nobody made it elsewhere.
A bit short and most of it was just set up in the beginning. Also kind of lacking in Jaune dialogue. Bah, whatever.
Ok, a mix of a spaghetti western and One Piece, except the One Piece isn't real. Also, now that I think about it, maybe I should've made Qrow Jaune's teacher. Bah, whatever.
7 more to go.